


Envy me not

by AlphaXGuardian



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst, Body-swap, Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 17:10:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15344541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaXGuardian/pseuds/AlphaXGuardian
Summary: After a heated argument, Vlad and Danny wake up the next morning and find that their minds have been switched.When the charade begins, who will decide to take a closer look?





	1. Smother me in Flames

**Author's Note:**

> ‘This’ conveys a character’s thoughts and “this” what they’re verbally saying.  
> Hope you enjoy these two dorks and their shenanigans :3

He bypasses the withered sign, once again the translucent teen ignores the ominous warning of “no mercy”. A familiar hospital crumbling from disuse and abandonment causes morbid memories to stir restlessly, yet he needs to keep them at bay. This town needs his protection he tells himself once again. A powerful ghost settling in an abandoned hospital with an array of medical supplies should not be left on its own.

Slowly and cautious of an ambush from the shadows glowing limbs phase through the outer walls. Radiant green eyes survey a barely illuminated room. Dusty linen neatly bundled sit atop every shelf, some scattered on the ground beneath toppled shelves. The following silence puts him on edge, the shadows of each far corner seem to be shifting hungrily. His bloodshot eyes scan every inch of the rooms the younger passes, even as he knows the foreign presence to be hiding out deeper in the surgery wing. Empty beds, broken machines and countless tools hiding amidst dirt and jutting out tiles.

Minuscule things occasionally shift in the comfort of the night and the smallest noise causes a charged ectoblast to be pointed at the source. By the point the distraught teen reaches the surgery doors a gust of wind could trigger him into attacking. With apprehension he phases through the last wall.

 

A shadow burning with black malice, a delighted chuckle at the long awaited arrival. The hero already knows which evil he is to fight tonight. Clenched fists twitch with the desire to heavily impact with her smirking face, yet he has to stay calm. This fight can only be won with a level head and controlled attacks.

“My favorite little freak, each time we meet your misery just seems to grow more than I thought possible. What a banquet of darkness you are, I should watch the amount I take from you lest I revert to a child.” Her chuckle cracks like splintering ice in freezing nights.

 

Both entities begin firing relentless attacks in quick succession, barely leaving room to breathe between each shot. The sentient shadow still manages to evade nearly every blast her opponent hurls towards her.  
The monotony of another taxing fight is suddenly interrupted by an unfamiliar noise further behind the ghost boy near the surgical double doors.  
  
He almost turns around to find out which figure managed to sneak in, but the ghostly teen catches himself in time, yet this miniscule lapse in attention apparently was enough for the malicious ghost to slip past his defenses and get the upper hand.

 

Suddenly green eyes find themselves forced to gaze into a pair of menacingly glowing slits, a deadly form quickly coiling around a futuristic suit.

“Shit!” It escapes him with a hiss of air and the fervent struggle wields no results, the black snake’s grip won’t relent.

 

Sharp claws caress a softly glowing face in a mockingly gentle fashion.

“Such a word from your mouth? Has your mother not taught you manners? Oh, that’s right,” she exclaims cheerfully “how can she when she leaves you to fend for yourself? I guess just your prestigious sister was worth the effort and love they gave her. I must admit, it is completely wasted on such an abomination like you. A freak of nature even the ghosts themselves wouldn’t accept.”

 

His breath puffs faster, an unruly beast paces the cage that is his chest, its claws dragging along. The numbing darkness claims barely moving legs. The trapped teen cannot run nor kick, his booted legs hang limply in the air. Desperation makes weakened arms strike out. Despite being incredibly close they miss. Determination turns into something sinister, frazzling his nerves. He lashes out, punches viciously, tries to scream, yet his otherworldly voice fails him, nothing but labored breath will rush past parted lips.  
The unrelenting struggles are halted by a strange painful pull, the black tendrils around his limbs tighten.

 

Ghoulish sharp claws dig into an already bruised jaw and the hero’s eyes stare helplessly into a burning abyss, shrouded in darkened inky mist. Endless depths call out to him like a longing lover, soft hands with the promise of blissful peace attempting to pull the victim of her gaze underneath the surface.  
The glowing form of the malevolent ghost is bound even tighter by her slithering form and the scarce sense of happiness that may have been begins to fade through shaky hands in fine rivulets of sand.

‘I need to distract her, focus her attention on something long enough to use…use what? What would keep her at bay? What would…what…what was I……I need to get…’

 

“Mhmmm delicious, this emotional symphony of yours.” A wistful sigh slips from her lips. “Such a luxury to my skin. Should I start paying you for your services?” A demented chuckle rips from her throat.

 

“What really still holds you here? Your parents hate you and would like nothing more than to rip every fiber of you to tiny pieces. The Government agents trail every step you take. You are the very reason ghosts attack this town in the first place. Your existence is not required, it even harms so many.”

The raging anger and panic begin to fade, numbing nothingness begins to weigh on his troubled mind like a heavy blanket. Thoughts fade like startled birds into the last rays of sunshine. His consciousness flickers and diminishes like a dying flame. The slumping teen lets himself be claimed by the dark.

‘I am a burden…I deserve this…just……’

 

Time fades in nothingness, a familiar avalanche increasingly smothering a mangled mind, numbingly paralyzing. How long has his mind wandered in the nondescript dark? Minutes? Hours? Days?

‘It doesn’t matter, I feel nothing…no one……’

 

Suddenly a stinging and burning erupts in his barely moving chest, an urgent feeling comes back to gnaw on deadly calmness.

‘What’s happening? I need to-‘

 

The ghost boy’s hands blindly shoot out and flail in the void, a burning pain spreading in his chest as he grips strong gloved arms pushing him down into an uneven ground. The world illuminates to a clear semi-darkness, two halfghosts locking toxic eyes. Deep gasps heaving an emblazoned chest are the only source of noise until a confused muttering leaves the teens lips.

 

“Vlad? Did you just shock me? And what are you doing here anyway?”

 

Remembering flashes of the sentient darkness adrenaline once again resurfaces and coils among his insides  like an electric current. The unsettled teen shoves aside the restraining arms, not bothering to wait for a reply and takes to the air with tensed hands set ablaze. Scanning for the threat with sharpened senses narrowed eyes observe what and who surrounds both halfghosts. To his surprise the ghostly hero only finds Vlad standing on the ground beneath him with a puzzled but guarded expression.

‘I can’t see her anywhere. Is she planning a surprise attack?’

 

“Where is Spectra?”

 

The older halfghost slowly takes to the air. Wearing a superior smirk he comes to eye-level with his adversary, his stature poised and demanding respect.

“I made her leave, no weak ghost is foolish enough to cross me.”

 

The younger’s eyes narrow with sharp suspicion at the other’s actions. Both may have agreed upon a truce, yet the older ghost would still not willingly help anyone out if it were not to improve his carefully crafted image. Seeing as there are no bystanders in the abandoned hospital the teen begins to wonder.

 

“Why did you help me? If you would have let her drain me fully you would have been able to get rid of me without even lifting a finger.” The accusation is thrown in the moldy air, both ghostly counterparts well aware of their dislike towards each other.

 

“Ah, but what a cruel man would I be to leave you to die by the hands of an evil ghost.” A smarmy smirk sticks to his lips like honey.

The memories of the presence of another presence near the surgical doors resurface in the teens mind.  
‘Before Spectra got the upper hand my ghost sense didn’t go off when the person sneaked up, which means-’

 

“It’s because of Maddie isn’t it? She must have been here, I heard someone enter the room. I bet you wanted to show her your heroics of rescuing the poor unconscious ghost boy to later on get in her good graces.”

 

“You know Daniel, we may have a truce in which I agreed not to try any underhanded tactics anymore, but that does not mean that I am ready to give up on such a mayor influence of my motives yet.”

A tan forehead covered by luminous bangs creases in confusion at the self assured words. Surely the experienced business man would not entertain such delusions.

‘Does his sick obsession cloud his judgment this much?’

 

“Do you seriously think that you can win her over with honesty then? We both know that none of us two is willing to touch that hornet’s nest, not even with a ten foot pole.”

 

Silence slithers above cracked tiles.

 

“Listen, I know you already thought about it in detail, but even _I_ haven’t told them and my relations to them are of blood and love. You could try to hide it, sure, but one day they _will_ know and then you will lose everything. Obsession is a dangerous thing Vlad, those who have it play with fire, sooner or later we will burn ourselves.”

‘He of all people I know should be aware of the strength hatred can have, how deeply rooted a grudge can be when you carry it with you for years.’

 

“You should not concern yourself with such matters Daniel, I will do as I see fit and as long as it does not harm those under your protection it should not be of your concern.”

An air of superiority and anger begins to manifest as the vampiric ghost takes on a reprimanding tone.

“Besides, I have not completely pulled away from your life due to the magnetic properties you seem to have towards disaster and again, I was proven right. Had I not intervened today you would have failed my love, yourself and ultimately your family.”

 

The barely held back insults the ghost boy wants to holler at the towering entity sour behind gnashed teeth.

‘It’s not worth risking our fragile truce.’

 

“I didn’t think that Spectra of all ghosts would almost succeed in besting you, this teenage angst of yours is starting to get in the way.” The bold statement prompts an immediate reaction. The younger ghost’s left eye twitches and his patience snaps and splinters like a broken pencil.

 

“Teenage angst? _Teenage angst?_ ” A sarcastic and distressed laugh escapes him like a furious animal, disbelief colors the words he utters and pitches his echoing voice. “Oh why yes of course Vlad, I’m just going through puberty, it’s not like I have the fucking government _and_ my own parents on my heels, not to mention everyone else in this goddamn town who would sell me out at the drop of a hat without batting an eye! I wish you knew just how hard it is to walk even so much as a mile in my shoes!”

 

The older ghost seems indignant at the other’s claim, insulted even. His voluminous dark eyebrows lower dangerously, gaze darkening.

“Do you think my life was easy? Have you ever cared enough to know or do you just assume everyone else had an easier life than you?”

 

“Well I sure as heck don’t know any other teenager who could land himself restrained on a lab table facing experimentation and vivisection just because of one little slip up.” Heavily constructed defenses begin to crack and crumble, raw anger attempting to push back gathering tears.  
Blazing eyes intently search the glistening green depths, bluish features slowly softening.

“Dear boy, you forget we face the same risks. I-”

 

“Yeah sure, because you know _exactly_ what it’s like to be me, go through everything life keeps throwing at me and just hoping to get some semblance of control over it.” With a desire to be understood the teen cuts the other halfghost off. The sense of false understanding and compassion his enemy’s eyes provoking him into a verbal offense.

 

“Nothing is keeping you from gaining control. I somehow managed, but you have to put in some effort and stop letting everyone and everything from stepping all over you!”

 

”Oh, so now it’s my fault I have a crappy life. Thanks Vlad, that really helps me with the whole issue.” ‘My sarcasm starts to get the better of me, we should part ways soon or we might manage to destroy the truce and go back to being enemies. I cannot manage one more powerful enemy right now.’

 

“You know what? Yeah, I’ll just stop protecting this ungrateful town and wake up in the rubble my enemies created overnight. Sounds better than what I am doing right now, thanks for the advice.”

 

Not bothering to wait for a response the younger ghost retreats quickly, the fanged ones responding deep growl is cut off while the luminous hero phases in quick haste through the walls of the surgery and utility room. His flight through the cold air is uninterrupted until he catches sight of his house, familiar neon sign burning a green patch of light into the night. White boots covered with soot and grayish streaks softly touch the floor of a darkened room. Furniture obscured in the shadows is illuminated softly by a bright light, a ripped black suit slowly fizzles into worn clothes. Adrenaline vanishing quickly a blunt but vicious headache picks up where it left off the moment he left for a fight. He ignores it, knowing it will fade eventually. Nimble fingers check for injuries, prod discolored bruises and trained eyes look over shallow gashes. After turning the flesh near throbbing bones invisible he concludes that there are no fatal wounds or awkwardly bent bones.  
The not even barely finished homework still lies untouched on a messy desk the way he left it with halfway scribbled notes. Schoolbook opened on the same page he tried reading and comprehending for hours with a little lamp illuminating the pitiful sight. A quick glance on the cracked display of the teens phone tells him it’s already 5:46, the offending numbers mockingly dancing with blurred movements.

 

Worn eyes start burning with a vengeance, dirtied and soot covered fingers trying to massage the uncomfortable yet familiar sensation in vain. A grimace flits over tired features.

‘I need a shower. Something to wake me up and get the dirt off me.’

 

The looming homework and throughout shower prompt him to consider pulling another all-nighter. ‘The one or two more hours of sleep I could get won’t make a difference at this point.’

 

Restless frustrations threatens to overcome the overwhelmed teen. With the last vestiges of self-control he pushes it down.

‘Get your shit together Danny, breaking out in another emotional tantrum won’t help you finish your homework.’

 

Two energy drinks later and mostly done with Lancer’s English assignment a drooping head slowly makes its way onto a cluttered desk without the boy’s notice. A heavy head and unruly midnight locks pillowed by solid arms.

 

_“I wish you knew just how hard it is to walk even so much as a mile in my shoes!”_

Lilac wisps of fiery smoke start dancing in a powerful pulse above green tinted skin.  
“You wish to live the life of your enemy, ghost youngling? So you have wished, so shall it be.” The words are whispered with the certainty of a promise, ghoulish red eyes holding a malicious glint.

‘Let this rest be the last you may take in peace.’

 

 

 

_Envy me not of my cruel fate, for a loved one’s touch can never heal those scars._

_Countless have tried, countless have failed._

 


	2. Sinister Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘This’ conveys a character’s thoughts and “this” what they’re verbally saying.  
> ‘C.o.P.’ signals a change of perspective in the middle of a chapter.

She heard their voices, a mingle of echoes. So otherworldly and wrong, but always so familiar.  
Their argument was heated with a freezing edge, not unlike an arctic burn. Their keen senses didn’t pick up the woman’s close presence over the verbal battle. Curious ears heard more than they bargained for.  
  
On the drawn out way back home the petite woman can barely register her slim legs moving, everything an indiscernible blur and flashes of walls and asphalt.  
  
_“It’s because of Maddie isn’t it? …to later on get in her good graces.”_  
The statement buzzes in her overstuffed head with all the other thoughts, angrily demanding attention, yet this one’s buzz is the loudest and most terrifying.  
‘It would mean that one of the most powerful ghost’s obsession is me.’  
  
A cold shiver dances across tightly clothed skin, a flood of arctic water swirling in her troubled head. A persistent itch spreads everywhere the teal skintight jumpsuit touches sweaty skin.  
‘If it wants me and has the ability to teleport, what exactly would keep it from obtaining what its obsession demands?’  
  
This realization wakes the shadows, infuses many with glimpses of menacingly red eyes. They grow with each fearful step, yapping at booted heels like rabid dogs. Soft knees are barely kept from buckling, hands armed with a gun tempted to strike at every shadow seemingly shifting in the nightly hours. Footsteps quicken to a jog, an erratic heartbeat tries to outrun them. Each beat a countdown.  
Glancing back obscured eyes see nothing but red tinted empty streets, yet each time the woman faces forward again she feels chased.  
Pushing strained legs to their limit, each corner brings the mother closer to safety.  
  
The hurried figure considers taking a longer route, but almost immediately decides against it.  
‘I am dealing with a ghost that can teleport, not just a ratty criminal. The sooner I am home the sooner I am within the safety of the shield. Just two more turns.’  
  
Her back feels impaled with the weight of an intense stare, yet each time the hooded figure turns her head around she finds nothing.  
‘Just a bit more-’ she tells herself, a familiar greenish light already spills from behind the last corner like a wave of relief.  
  
In the dark of the night is still nothing but sinister shadows and deserted streets.  
She rounds the corner. The sight of her house with its illuminating neon sign fills the panicked woman with relief. Quivering legs sprint to the front steps, using up every last reserve of energy they have left.  
The moment she reaches the inside of the dome she bends over, heavy and desperate breaths repeatedly rushing in and out of spasming lungs. After catching her breath the hunter surveys the area more calmly.  
  
Nothing moves. Silence permeates the air in the nightly stillness. A last searching glance and the calmed figure heads inside. Shaking hands scratch the key against the worn keyhole.  
‘Okay Maddie, calm down. You’re inside the dome.’  
  
Taking another deep breath and attempting to still the tremors in the usually nimble hands she finally manages to open the sturdy door and hastily heads inside.  
  
The living room is empty, nearly silent apart from the soft ticking of a clock. The lingering panic makes a gloved hand dart out in a blind search for the light switch. Immediately assaulted by a bright wave the illuminated figure squints against harsh lighting. After calming down enough in the confines of a powerful shield and surrounded by yellow light adjusting eyes glance towards a noisy clock on the wall. Roughly twenty minutes past 6 in the morning.  
‘The kids will be waking up soon. Might as well get started already.’  
  
Moving towards the kitchen she takes note of the uncomfortable chafing the slick fabric is causing. A grimace contorts lips of a worn reddish color.  
‘I should take a shower. I’m sure I smell horrible.’  
  
Occasionally glancing around her the mother heaves herself upstairs, legs complaining about the steep trek with wobbly accuracy.  
  
Worn stairs creak slightly. She winces, the sound too loud in the nightly stillness. Reaching the hallway upstairs persistent snores become audible. Tired violet eyes wander to her son’s door, noticing a carpet of light spilling from underneath the door frame. Delicate brows furrow, worry clawing its way into her thoughts.  
‘Is he already awake? Usually I either have to wake him or he’ll come stumbling down the stairs last minute looking like he just slept for maybe an hour at most.’  
  
Her gloved hand hovers over white wood, just about to knock.  
‘But what if he’s asleep and just left the lights on? He already is not getting enough sleep, I shouldn’t bother him.’  
Booted feet slowly turn away, heading for the bathroom.  
‘But what if the shower wakes him? He has become such a light sleeper over the years.’  
  
The concerned mother silently slinks into her bedroom, grating snores loudly filling the room in a powerful crescendo. Pulling out a clean suit nimble fingers quickly change her attire, slight tremors cursing through her hands the more skin she reveals. Quick glances behind raised shoulders assure the hunter that the bedroom is empty, bulky goggles revealing no ghostly presence.  
‘This is ridiculous, the shield is up and nothing can get in.’  
Despite grounding reassurances the doubt still clings to her.  
‘Could teleportation enable a ghost to get in?’  
  
Countless ideas and experiments already start vying for attention as she absentmindedly dresses herself.  
 Wandering downstairs to begin working on their family’s breakfast the mother opens the fridge, unpacking the bacon and pulling out some eggs and previously prepared batter.  
Pans clanging and eggshells cracking Jazz enters the busy kitchen with a well-worn book and a thick binder, college block wedged in between the array of research materials. Spreading everything out on the table to read, but still being able to make place for her plate she settles in.  
  
The older woman glances over to her daughter, noticing the familiar mountain of papers.  
‘She’s barely back here and already studying whenever she can. Always making use of every free minute.’ she reminisces with a fond smile, cracking the last egg into a bowl.  
“How are your studies coming along?”  
  
“Pretty well.” The answer is given distractedly, a busy mind continuing to skillfully pick out valuable information from paragraph to paragraph.  
  
Glancing back for a moment the woman wonders what her daughter is researching this time.  
“So what topic are you reading up on?”  
  
Quickly marking the sentence with an adhesive note delicate fingers flip over to the cover.  
“Bodily changes in pain, hunger, fear and rage by Walter Cannon.” She recites dutifully.  
  
Taking interest the woman is about to inquire about details when-  
  
“Why are you wearing your goggles in the house? Did you take down the shield?”  
  
Surprised by the question gloved fingers halt in their movement, pancakes continuing to sizzle. After a moment they resume their movements.  
“Of course not honey, we always make sure to keep the shield up. As for my goggles, I’m testing them. There seems to be some sort of malfunction.” Thin eyebrows knit in apparent frustration, hoping to conceal the fear beyond.  
‘I shouldn’t worry her, I’ll take care of it quickly.’  
  
“What kind of malfunction?” asks a curious voice, attention suddenly shifting to the mother currently cooking breakfast.  
  
The suited figure pauses.  
‘I completely forgot that Jazz is way more curious about these things than Danny is, he would just have accepted it but Jazz…’  
She opts to go with another version of the truth.  
“You know, sometimes they will pick up faint traces of ectoplasm around the house.”  
  
The paling features of her daughter alarm her, making the young woman look scared, close to terrified.  
‘I shouldn’t have said that. I should have known this would unsettle her. Of course Jazz would put one and one together and conclude that despite the shield ghosts can somehow enter. We might have seen these traces but any of us could have left them there.’  
  
“Don’t worry, ghosts can’t get through our shield, they never could nor will they ever be able to. As I said, it must be a malfunction.”  
  
The reassuring words seem to calm the unsettled psychology student, tense shoulders relaxing. Satisfied with the defused situation the ruthless hunter returns to the breakfast preparations.  
  
Yet at the back of her head, in the deepest recesses of the hunter’s mind a voice whispers ‘Can’t they?’, coated in panic and cynicism.  
  
‘Can’t they get through the shield?’  
  
  
**_C.o.P. Jazz_**  
  
With a scattered mind the student turns back to her book, traces of panic and adrenaline still itching underneath tight skin. Eyes slit over sentences without reading a word, desperately trying to seem distracted and calm. Normal. As if nothing significant happen. As if their parents didn’t just find another clue. How many clues until they find out? Three? One?  
‘I should have paid closer attention to their inventions. I should have been here. My education isn’t more important than my brother’s life, no matter what he says.’  
  
Uneasy mind still churning and spinning she forces herself to at least pretend to read, draw some seemingly important diagram.  
Ballpoint pen hovering over an empty sheet chaotic thoughts have trouble aligning themselves into categories, creating disaster and pushing anything she learned so far away, into dark corners, hiding them underneath the floorboards.  
Frustration and panic begin clawing at her chest. Recalling the calming technique the teen sometimes uses troubled thoughts are strictly directed to pragmatism.  
‘Alright, she doesn’t know, she thinks it’s a malfunction. But did she say that to calm me? No, she said it before I even reacted, she initially suspected it to be a malfunction.’  
  
Once again unbidden thoughts slither into the forefront of her mind like a sinister snake, spreading venom, poisoning already frantic thoughts.  
‘She seemed nervous after I asked her about the shield and the goggles though. Okay this is getting me nowhere, I should just distract the both of us.’  
  
“Hey Mom?”  
  
“Yes sweetie?”  
  
Facing the occupied mother by the stove she tries not to fidget.  
‘There is no turning back now.’  
“You know that Danny’s trying his best right?”  
  
Fluid movements still momentarily, sizzling bacon slowly removed from the heated stove. A concerned glance inlaid with worry and sadness becomes visible as the mother turns to her child.  
“Of course I know that.”  
  
A gentle hand softly touches her shoulder, the still gloved hand affectionately rubbing tense muscles in a soothing motion.  
“Danny is a sweet child, he’s just a bit troubled. But I guess you already know that.”  
  
There is care in the woman’s eyes, assurance in her voice and pride in the words that are uttered with strong but soft confidence. Massaging fingers wander from the relaxing shoulders to Jazz’s head and with a few last calming strokes she announces “I’ll finish our breakfast now. Jack should be charging down the stairs any minute now, I’m sure the smell of bacon must have already reached him.”.  
  
The younger woman silently returns to her abandoned research, smiling fondly at her father’s usual shenanigans.  
‘How he smells the bacon all the way to his room I still don’t know.’  
  
An alluring smell of bacon slowly begins to fill the kitchen anew and moments later loud footsteps can be heard from the stairs, followed by the exclamation of “I smell bacon!”.  
‘If Danny doesn’t wake up from this racket I’ll have to step by his room, usually even just a light knock to his door can wake him.’  
Despite trying to concentrate on the book before her the usual banter still registers in her mind, tempting the college student to either give up or move into another room. In the end she stays, the promise of a new invention coming up during the usual banter keeping her rooted in the kitchen.  
  
“I made you your favorite, eggs on bacon.” A playful voice sing-songs in a proud tone.  
  
“That’s why I love you honey.” A quick peck on the lips can be heard.  
  
“Oh?” the indignant tone is like the promise of the storm, yet amusement still colors it in nuances “And here I thought I was worth more than just my cooking skills.”  
Out of the corner of her eye the elder daughter can just make out her mother, who is waving around her spatula with a smirk on her lips, eventually holding the offending object between the larger man’s eyes very closely. The man goes cross-eyed, his expression almost making Jazz laugh loudly, who is now snickering at the table.  
  
“I am insulted that you would even suggest that!” A boisterous deep voice exclaims in a theatrically indignant tone, a large hand splayed out against a broad chest like an oath.  
His wife tries to uphold the serious expression, but with each snicker from the nearby table it is increasingly getting more difficult.  
  
The banter continues on for a while until silence settles in the busy kitchen again. A pair of eyes behind red goggles wander to the open door, two other pairs following suit a moment later. The breakfast is almost done and laid out, one of the chairs still remaining empty.  
  
“He’s going to be late again isn’t he?”  
  
“A slacker isn’t going to change all of a sudden. I’ve been saying it and I’ll say it again: He needs discipline. It can’t continue like this.”  
  
“Jack.”  
  
“What?! You know I’m right, giving him room and freedom over the years hasn’t improved anything.” His disapproval and disappointment can be heard in every word, hanging thickly in the air with sharp accusation.  
Silence.  
No word or sound follows the ruthless assessment.  
  
“You know dad, I’ve been keeping track of his grades and they have improved significantly over the years. I even have diagrams! Do you want to see them?”  
With a twinge of panic delicate fingers begin to leaf through the thick folder meant for research to help her younger brother, pages turning into a white flurry.  
  
“No it’s fine, I believe you.” the disgruntled man mutters reluctantly, “but he still comes home late, if at all! Apart from his grades nothing has changed and no matter what we do nothing changes!”  
The frustration brews in his voice like a storm, a catastrophe waiting to happen.  
  
The sister’s lips thin into an angry line, trying to hold back all the words and emotions just begging to finally be released like a flock of liberated doves.  
‘This is so unfair, Danny does his best and barely even gets enough sleep to catch up with his studies, not even mentioning the mental wounds he has to suffer, and the only thing he regularly comes home to are our disappointed parents and pointless lectures. If I could just take him with me…’  
  
“I’ll go check on him.”  
Leaving the oppressing atmosphere Jazz heads for the stairs, the previously bantering couple sitting in silence until a whispery discussion breaks out between them.  
  
A sense of heavy desperation weighs on her mind, followed by the intensely burning urge to help her overworked brother.  
‘Should I visit more often? I could work on my studies here, listen to recordings in the car.’  
  
Remembering the tense conversation just a few seconds ago soft features grimace, anxiety and worry festering deeper in a troubled mind.  
‘I should definitely tell Danny to “fix” the goggles again, the current excuse will only hold so long.’  
  
Her thoughts take on a more vicious edge of desperation and a dark sense of helplessness takes refuge between smothering thoughts.  
‘I want to help him, fix him completely, permanently, but that isn’t possible, not with the fights still going on. Removing him from here wouldn’t work either, he would find a way back. There is nothing-’  
  
Chocked up and near tears the red-headed sister attempts to collect herself again.  
‘No, there is still a hope, I can still help, I shouldn’t give up on him.’  
  
Taking a shaky but deep breath near silent feet trudge on to a familiar wooden door, a worn nameplate with space themed stickers still attached to it. Smiling fondly she calls out softly.  
“Danny, it’s me Jazz, I’m coming in.”  
  
  
  
  
  
_Oh those eyes, making me shiver in icy cold blood, the nausea crawling up my throat with the vengeance of a betrayed lover._

 


	3. Forged Identities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 'This' conveys a character's thoughts and "this" what they're verbally saying.  
> 'CoP' signals a change of perspective in the middle of a chapter.  
> [This] contains a written text message

Gently pushing down the door handle the sight of a hunched over teen greets her, presumably still in a deep sleep.

Frowning with concern taking over Jazz begins to slowly make her way to the resting teen, careful not to step too close, approaching her brother like an easily spooked animal.  
About to call out the words lodge themselves in her throat, unwilling to leave, unwilling to wake him, a cold sensation freezing her thoughts.  
'Maybe I should let him sleep a bit longer, he looks exhausted. I could drive him to school later.'

Reluctant to leave but still not willing to wake him the older teen sits down on dark covers, pulling out her phone.  
'Might as well get a head start on my studies.'

Scrolling through the newer model she is about to get another look at her documents, until cyan colored eyes glance at a notification icon in the corner of a smooth screen.  
'I hope it's important, especially if they're writing me on my day off.'

Opening the message curious eyes swiftly flit over the text:  
[Hey Jazz, I'm really sorry but I can't make it back in time for the presentation, my mother is in the hospital and I have to stay here. But I'll email you what I have so far, you won't have to do my part too!]  
  
Sighing heavily and burying tense fingers into soft hair the overwhelmed teen already starts thinking of accommodations and solutions.  
'Obviously now she won't do her whole part, not that I can really blame her with an either hurt or sick mother to watch over. How much did she even manage until now? When was her mother indisposed? If luck isn't on my side and let's be honest, with us it never is, then it happened somewhat shortly after our short-time vacation began and her mother's condition was critical enough for her response to be delayed. Then I would basically have to do my part on top of most of her part, since she told me she'll catch up on it on these few vacation-days. But what if she lied about her mother and simply didn't want to do the work? What if I ask her for the documents and she'll have another excuse as to why she doesn't have it? No no, I'm already thinking myself into a hole, I need to focus. I need to ask her for the documents first.'

Composing herself and repositioning her hair-band deft fingers start typing out a response:  
[I'm really sorry to hear that, I hope she gets well soon. Can you send me the document as early as possible today? I need to plan ahead for the presentation.]

Waiting for an answer it comes only a few moments later in usual brevity:  
[Sure :)]

'Now I'll just have to wait. But what if she tries to drag it out and the next time I remind her about the documents she comes up with another story as to why she can't send them over? Something like 'Oh my computer broke down and all my files were on it, even the document.', oh woe me! I should get a headstart and do our share of work now, I can't afford to wait all day, my grades depend on it, my scholarship even.'

Quickly checking for any new mails or notifications the frazzled student starts her partner's research, quickly scrolling through countless pages and marking any with significant information, skipping biased articles with emotional undertones altogether.  
Lost to the outside world the focused girl plunges into her studies deeply enough that she almost doesn't pick up on the shifting figure at her brother's desk. Almost.  
'Finally he's waking up.'

Letting her brother slowly and peacefully wake up she tries busying herself with her research again, yet wary eyes still follow his sluggish movements from the corner of her eye.  
'He's out of it again, how long did he even manage to sleep? An hour or just a few minutes?'

Waiting for his yale blue eyes to fall on her she waits patiently. Silently.  
Looking around he finally spots his busied sister on his still made bed.  
A beat of silence. Two. Three.  
Bright eyes framed by midnight strands widen comically in recognition, only to frown and flit over the rest of the room in a panicked frenzy.  
'Did he have another nightmare? I swear to everything that is holy, no matter how much sympathy Danny has with these creatures, one day I'll make it my own personal agenda to hunt down every single ghost who harassed him and lock them all in a cage with Spectra, then we'll see how much they like having their happiness and sanity sucked dry.'

Coming to the conclusion that he is in fact home with Jazz wandering eyes zero in on her, permanent frown deepening ever so slightly. She already knows something is wrong when these familiar blue eyes start narrowing in wary suspicion.  
'Oh shit, this isn't good. Whatever his brain brain just came up with isn't good. Shit, keep calm Jazz, KEEP CALM.'

Attempting to keep her voice as steady and cheerful as possible the distraught teen attempts to find out what happened to result in such suspicion.  
'Good morning Danny. I hope you slept well, you certainly seemed to be sleeping quite deep and calmly for once. When did you get home yesterday?'

Seemingly thrown off by the chipper response a panicked expression returns to his face and he starts checking over his hands, arms and hair in fascinated but shocked wonder.  
'Is it a dream that caused this reaction or does it have something to do with the latest fight he had this night? I didn't even say anything surprising or unusual. What in the world happened? If it was another cruel alternate timeline or universe in which he was caught for years I'll go on a shooting frenzy for everything ghostly that moves, consequences be damned.'

Suddenly getting up and running to the bathroom was nothing she suspected, but also nothing she is surprised by.  
'He either has a full bladder or will be undoubtedly shocked about his appearance in the next few minutes.'

Glancing into the bathroom through the widely open door a whispered "whuo..." confirms her latter suspicions. Whatever happened affected him mentally but every trace of physical evidence was apparently wiped out.  
Crossed arms twitch with the desire to embrace her little brother in a loving hug, yet research and experience keeps her rooted on the spot, leaving him the space he needs until he comes back to reality.  
'God, how many years has it been already with these powers? Day in day out he flies off to save all these ungrateful and unaware people, his own needs practically non-existent at this point. Then again even without his heroism they would still lure him out with threats and destruction, this is a never ending cycle at this point.'

Feelings of reoccurring helplessness starts mingling with an acid loathing, leaving an ugly mixture behind.  
'Why can't they just leave him alone? Is it really that amusing to beat up a teenager over and over again? Shouldn't they become bored at some point?!'

During the redhead's musings her distressed brother has apparently decided to accept reality, as she is now faced with a casual smile and an even more casual "Hey Jazz.", as if nothing strange just happened mere moments ago. She recognizes the familiar diversion attempt and goes along with it. For now.

"Danny, if you keep falling asleep on your homework like that the teachers will start grading your face."

"What do you mean? Do I have an imprint?"

"A bit, but it's barely visible." Compassionate eyes fixate on the slightly bigger brother, already on his way to outgrow her. "You know that you can wake me earlier when you have trouble with your homework, I really won't mind, it'll even help me with my studies to brush up on basic subjects. We'll both learn quicker that way."

Silently staring past her into the distance she knows that he won't acquiesce.

"Do you smell that?" exaggeratedly sniffing the air and reveling in it the sister turns to the stairs, "I guess that must be Mom's famous pancakes with bacon. C'mon, hurry up before dad eats everything!"

Already heading for the stairs with excited enthusiasm the younger teen follows. Reaching a kitchen still drowned in a heavy atmosphere Jazz enters first, the cheerful and wide grin feeling like a chafing mask.

"Hey Mom, we smelled pancakes!"

Both adults immediately turn to the doorway, halting any conversation they might have had. Maddie addresses them first while her husband leans back to watch the exchange.

"Good morning Danny. Did you sleep well?" The mother's smile is a slightly sad yet still genuine one.

"Yeah..."

"Are you sure? I saw your light was on this morning. Have you been staying up late again young man?" the woman interrogates in a gently demanding tone.

"No-" both teens deny in unison, glancing at each other in surprise. Looking to his sister Jazz takes it as her cue to proceed.

"He didn't stay up that late, I've just woken him up."

Note entirely convinced the worried mother continues her inquiry, "When I passed by his room earlier his lamp was still on and we both know he isn't an early riser."

"He fell asleep before turning it off, it was still on when I entered his room just now." The daughter elaborates, having difficulty with repressing the nudging urge to descend into a defensive tone.

The conversation is dropped like a wet fish on land, awkward with the wish to avoid it. With a strained smile the mother turns to her youngest child.

"I made some pancakes and bacon, you should get yourself a plate."

Disapproving eyes wander to the woman's back, silently mustering.  
'She isn't even fixing him a plate anymore because she thinks he won't join breakfast anyway.'

The tense atmosphere becomes even thicker when the older husband takes his plate into the living room to eat in front of the television. The mother's attempts at conversation loosen the mood somewhat, leaving behind an uncomfortable awkwardness.  
Glancing at her watch the daughter exclaims that her brother is running late, apologetically leaving the mother behind to take care of the dishes.

As the car drives on with the redheaded student nervously clutching the wheel and worriedly glancing over to the slumped teen said teen decides to take pity on her. An unnerved sigh passes his lips.

"What is it now Jazz?"

Reluctant to elaborate the sister continues to gnaw on the inside of her cheek until finally collecting her thoughts in a coherent order.

"You seem off today. What aren't you telling me?" before the dark haired passenger can say anything she plows on, "And please be honest with me. I know it isn't easy and I can be a bit nosy," a mocking scoff accompanies her statement from the sidelines "but I really do worry about you, this isn't just some psychology study to me."

Lips thinning and eyes downcast the younger sibling gives into her prodding, reluctantly presenting what she is eager to hear.

"It was just a nightmare, a stupid one. Guess it just affected me a bit more than usually."

"Is the nightmare in your case really a nightmare or was it an alternative reality again? You've been really out of it this morning." her voice takes on a more serious edge, cutting with accuracy, "I can only assure you that this is real if you tell me what you have doubts about."

A surprised expression flits over male youthful features, eyes widening ever so slightly in disbelief.

"Don't think I can't tell the signs. I'm the one who has woken you up all these years, may it be from nightmares or delusions. I notice when your behavior changes or you start having doubts about reality."

"I am not having delusions about reality Jazz." he exclaims, sounding offended and affronted.

"I am not saying this to be mean Danny, I'm just concerned about your mental state. Besides, you can't exactly say that you never had any delusions, because if you do then you're clearly lying to yourself."

"I don't need you psychoanalyzing me."

"I am not-" and exhausted sigh "Listen, you obviously see my efforts as annoying and self-serving, when really the only thing on my mind when I'm worrying about you is your well-being, not the need to be right, not how I can prove that I know better. Just your well-being."

A pained expression contorts the older sister's face into something sad, eyes swimming in unshed tears.

"I'm sorry Jazz, I didn't mean it like that."

"I know. It's just hard sometimes, you know? For the both of us, and it's really not fair."

"Rarely anything is fair in my case."

The saddened expression on a delicate face loosens somewhat at the petulant statement and following pout.

"That's the spirit Danny, now I know for sure that you're back."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

The formerly depressing atmosphere gives way to a light banter, mocking and arguing with no serious intent. Arriving at the school's parking lot Jazz turns to her brother.

"You better hurry, you're already late." After hugging him briefly she reminds him, "Take care brother, call me if you need backup. I mean it."

The stern look the sister gives him melts to a humored one at seeing his unimpressed stare.

"Go before Lancer has your head."

"Shit!"

Dashing out of the car and towards the school the younger student can just make out Jazz yelling "No swearing!" after him.

 

 

 

_Hover with me in the fog of uncertainty, breathe in the toxic air, plummet to the ground in shriveling doubt._

 


	4. Sensible Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 'This' conveys a character's thoughts and "this" what they're verbally saying.  
> The beginning written in italics is a dream sequence.

 

The gentle ticks of a clock fill the peaceful confines of a silent room. Tranquil in its nature of still air.

_“Vlad?”_

_Glaringly red eyes drunkenly sway in the empty dark._

_“Oh my boy.” It halls and reverberates eerily everywhere, suddenly all at once in the startled child’s head. Dripping like poisoned honey. Honey so toxic it burns a path down the hill. Sanity awaits the boy not beneath. “Has it never occurred to you that I can take as much as I give?”_

_“What have you given me? Nothing!”_

_“Oh but my dear boy,” prickling shivers wrack his smaller frame, fragile in the scrutiny of the other “I have never said you can keep anything I might offer you. In fact, I will now be taking everything back rightfully belonging to me.”_

As the eyes burning with horrid evil shoot toward the defenseless teen a tranquil room greets a startled man. Still adjusting to a reality that could as well be a trap flitting eyes widen in alarm. The room he finds himself in is unfamiliar, a sense of dread and confusion mingling into a toxic mix.

‘Where the fuck am I?’

Further contemplation yields no tangible result, forcing the teen to cautiously approach the windows, peeking through a sliver in the curtains. As the aggravating light is fading a clear sky and rich greenery resting on vast fields now merrily greet the distraught figure.

‘At least it’s not the ghost zone. Was I kidnapped by humans?’   
Pondering for what he would later on consider an embarrassingly long amount of time the realization hits him with the jolt of a thunderbolt.  
‘Of course it’s Vlad! What other insane lunatic would kidnap the nobody son of the local ghost hunters? Idiot.’

Doors most likely locked and reinforced he calmly drenches his mortal being in ghostly energy, black hair eerily floating in nonexistent windy currents. Something feels off. Something is off, inherently, undeniably wrong and unsettling. The energy is different, his limbs feel alien and awkward, his core vibrates to tunes unknown. The unearthly being lights up his hand, engulfing it in familiar ghostly energy. Yet the energy isn’t green. Instead red-tinted powerful pulses flicker, casting soft shadows on sharp features. So alien and yet so undeniably familiar. Too familiar. A look at every inch of his new self available in both forms confirms in no uncertainty what the boy fears to accept as truth.  
A dream. No. Alternate reality? Clockwork perhaps? Intent on returning to his normal life the teen now wearing the itchy skin of his nemesis desperately searches his memory for mistakes to atone for, yet there are too many. Perhaps a slight against Vlad in the heat of the moment Clockwork deemed too inappropriate? What if he indeed needs to learn more about his nemesis to prevent another tragedy?

‘Is Vlad scheming something again? Or was he sincere this time?’

Suddenly recalling the late encounter in a rundown hospital he groans at the confrontation with his own mistakes once again, yelling “For fuck’s sake.” into the empty room. It would seem that he has not yet gotten rid of his self-important naivete yet. Not at all. And now it would come back to haunt him for however long he takes to resolve the new morale and learn his new life lesson like the good student he is supposed to be. A thought suddenly strikes him, draining his pale face from any color it might have previously held onto, ghostly transformation already changing the aged skin.

‘If I am here, then Vlad must be where I’m supposed to be.’

Morbid thoughts spinning one gruesome tale after another the ghostly entity takes off, only realizing his foolishness after colliding with a powerful shield head on. Thrown back a few feet and still awkwardly twitching with disrupted energy running wild in feral bursts he cannot believe he forgot the ever present ghost shield in his haste. That would not do in his now less frantic mind. One inattentive step and one of his enemies might get the best of him. Floating in breezy air with a centered mind the boy becomes aware of an uncomfortable fact. His lower regions feel aired out. Which they shouldn’t be. Looking down a hospital garb lazily floats in dangerous levitation.

‘Don’t think about it. DON’T THINK ABOUT IT.’ A flash of a mental picture and he is cursing himself to an extent that would leave even his verbally strong goth friend speechless.

About to smash his head into the nearest brickwall he suppresses the strong urge in favor of putting on something less incriminating. A pair of deeply black trousers and a navy turtleneck later he is ready to pursue his initial goal, fading through walls and seamlessly stepping through the shield. After which he has to face the fact that he will have to carry the clothes for his ghostform as they seemingly vanish with each transformation. Thoroughly disgruntled the young undead teen now carries a bundle of clothing past the incriminating shield before putting it back on and taking off.

‘Of course Vlad would not even exclude his own signature from the shield, paranoid loop.’ Continuing the rash travel back home another problem pops up from the ground with such a sudden surprise that it makes the worried man stumble and halt. The territory might be familiar, yet the way back not as much. Not enough to travel without getting lost along the way. Entirely bypassing the already blooming frustration a cold calculative wave sweeps every frantic thought away, leaving only fodder for upcoming solutions behind.  
‘Amity should be further West, if I track the sun…it’s morning judging by the air and ground, which means this way is East and the other West. Alright then, Southwest we go. Maybe I should take his phone with me as well, just to be sure.’

Repeating the troublesome process with a groan he is soon invisibly on his way, stopping only a few times to orient himself and trek back before he can be sure that his hometown is not very far. The familiar display of an ominous warning looms in the distance, growing in size. ‘Amity Park’ displayed in bold letters on a worn sign. Soon he whizzes past it with a speed nearly unseen. In the blink of a mortal eye he spots his ‘visually underappreciated’ house, crawling towards the sky from regular houses. Halting just before what he knows to be the invisible border of an unpleasantly buzzing ghostshield. Translucent bare feet touch the rough grimy asphalt of an unseeming alleyway before the usual transformation brings back a part of humanity the ghostboy didn’t think Vlad was capable of possessing. Suddenly reminded of what he was wearing before the transformation however he is now faced with the fact that currently there is an old disgruntled man standing in an alley with bare feet, clad only in silky nightwear. Barely a street away from his notoriously suspicious parents.

‘Great. If somebody sees me like this I’m dead meat. Vlad you damn lunatic!’

Deeply sunken in thought about possible actions and solutions to a problem so fleeting and incomprehensible he remembers his less than savory appearance when he hears a hushed “Vlad?” from the entrance of his sketchy hiding place. Going invisible is not an option anymore.

‘Just bolt it? I should clear it up. But I don’t have any excuse.’

Making the decision for him the unknown figure approaches slowly but steadily. “Hey Vlad, is everything alright?”

He recognizes that voice. How could he not? Suddenly the young teen is faced with the fact that he has to not only dress like Vlad, but also act like him. Either act or be faced with the catastrophic multitude of consequences. Questions. Experiments. Reveal of the truth. What is one more lie? One more act? One more twisted smile?  
Stomach churning and cold sweat cascading in freezing waves he turns. Two pairs of eyes lock, icy pale blue rings staring unwaveringly into a beautiful violet. Locking away himself into the deepest part of himself with an urgent shove a smarmy smile grotesquely paints a face marred with age.

“Madeline.” his voice sounds too unsteady still, he shoves every personality he has down deeper until his tone is as smooth as the movement of a snake, “What a pleasure to see you.”  
He turns around, painfully slow like a showman, keeping his audience at the edge of their seats with bated breath. A breath too strong, an exhalation too rushed and the captivating magic might simmer, a mirage fading into the heat. Turning around might have proven a mistake, if a strange one. Expecting the usual fear and distaste leveled at the woman he is supposed to call mother something else fills the emotional chaotic void. Something sinister.  
Eyes increasingly honing in on the petite figure standing a few feet away in the dim light the ghostly teen is suddenly filled with an urge. It calls to him in strange voices, whispering to him, beckoning him.

_‘Come closer. Protect. Come closer even. Closer. CLOSER.’_

Stunned by the hypnotic call he comes closer, taking a step forward without conscious notice. A frown and moving dark lips stop the boy in further advances, waking his muddled brain from its comatose sleep.

‘What…was I about to do? What was that?’

“Vlad?!” she calls louder this time, finally taking hold of his attention.  
Shaken from the stupor he mentally flails for a minute before realizing that he is in fact still in his nemesis’ body. Still standing in an alley wearing only thin nightwear.

‘Shit what should I say? Okay I shouldn’t stall for too long, that’ll only make her even more suspicious.’

“Do forgive me for my inattention Madeline. It seems that I might have found myself at the mercy of a ghost’s terribly unfunny joke. Either that or I am of some use to another one of their moronic plans.” An eyebrow raised in skepticism is the only commentary the other woman deigns him with.  
“I might not look very astute right now, which is partly due to a sudden kidnapping stunt from within the very walls of my bedroom.” The seemingly nonchalant man shrugs his shoulders in slight embarrassment, “Pity that you have to see me like this.”

“Wait. A ghost managed to kidnap you from your house? Don’t you have a ghost shield?” The barely visible tick of widening eyes accompanies the almost fearfully hesitant questioning.

Running along with the story Vlad continues, carefully crafting each lie in a way she is left unable to determine its viability.  
“Indeed. Even if I am reluctant to admit that something got past my defenses, ghostly or otherwise. I will have to search for the lapse in security.”

The sickly pale complexion of his still mother gives him pause. Something is amiss.  
‘Maybe I made her worry by telling her that a ghost might have gotten past my ghost shield.’

“Oh but worry not Madeline, I will keep you informed and notify you the moment I find the lapse.”

He can see the relief those words bring her, making the nervous teen feel light and strangely positive.  
‘The sooner I get outta here the better.’

“If you’ll excuse me dear, I still have a culprit to catch and a company to run.”  
Hastily the older man turns to the opposite side of the grey walkway with a “Until we meet again.” slipping from his deft tongue, accompanied by an empty smile and even more unconvincing tone.

“Vlad.”

Tensing muscles, freezing nerves, an entire being drowned in anticipation with no way out. Instincts on alert the disguised man prepares for a quick retreat, half baked solutions sprinting around, tripping on panicked waves. Adrenaline, always so familiar, yet never nearly enough. Not anymore, nor ever again. She still holds the leash to the boy’s being, yet why doesn’t it feel as terrifying as it should?   
Shoulders loosen from a strung tenseness like a puppet’s limbs. Lose strings, yet not cut. Never severed. Never free.

“Mmhm?” The words fall and crash from his tongue in heavy bricks. “Sad to see me go already?” With each uttered atrocity of a sentence the nausea usually controlled becomes less bearable with each passing second. “I could stay of course, I was planning on staying in Amity for a while anyway, pay you and your family a visit.”

The bile rising ever higher at these utterances settles somewhat when the teen catches sight of his mother’s face, contorted in the display of a revolted grimace. And still something strange and uneasy slithers in the boy’s chest. A snake dissatisfied with every inch its body touches.  
The beautiful women’s cherry lips part, an unsure “An-” slipping out before the rest is cut off inaudibly by a hollow shriek, punctuated by a sudden brutal explosion. The vibrations resonate within their chests, trained bodies flowing seamlessly at the snap of a finger into a moving crouch, marching out as soldiers trained in war undeniably would. Eyes focus, muscles tighten, adrenaline flows in rivers, weapons and powers alike at the mercy of a trigger. Rounding the crumbled corner of the alley the trained hunters are suddenly confronted with grotesque birds glowing eerily in a bright toxic green, circling the neighborhood, spreading inane screeches and destructive chaos alike. Silvery blue eyes widen in unhinged recognition before slitting in suspicious analysis.

‘Vultures.’

   
  


_Chase me up the hillrise, knock me down upon a jokester’s jest._


End file.
